


The Sky's Still Blue

by sansonrio



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Car Troubles, Comedy, Light-Hearted, One Shot, Slice of Life, tim's a car guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansonrio/pseuds/sansonrio
Summary: Jason slides out from underneath the car, a dark smudge on his nose.“You’re really gonna say that to the person fixing your car?”
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	The Sky's Still Blue

**Author's Note:**

> is there context for this? yes and that context is my sad life. 
> 
> (there's also no in-story context but that's just my writing, hello my name is–)

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an _asshole?”_

Jason slides out from underneath the car, a dark smudge on his nose.

“You’re really gonna say that to the person fixing your car?” He jokes, pointing the wrench in his hand. 

“ _Yes_.” Tim, exasperated, leans back against the hot black metal of the passenger door. “I _should’ve_ been able to do it on my own if it weren’t for you in the first place, so I repeat, _yes_ , I _will_ and _am_ going to say it.”

The aforementioned wrench lightly hits his ankle as Jason disappears again. “Off the car, birdie,” and Tim can hear the smirk in his voice. 

Tim rolls his eyes, the sun’s unrelenting heat making him irritable; sweat rolls down his back when he tugs at the collar of his shirt. They’d been stuck just outside of Gotham for barely an hour, but mid-summer temperatures and no A/C was more than enough to bring back the usual pounding headache. 

He crouches down, hair hanging slightly off his head while looking at Jason on his back.

“Making quick work of it this, I see.” Tim teases, taking in the splatter of tools that litter the ground around him. “Maybe we’ll make it back by _next week!”_

A hub bolt flies past his face, Tim only just dodging it.

“ _You_ are supposed to be the car one!” Jason shouts annoyed.

“Yeah, well, you made sure I couldn’t really _do_ anything!” Tim yells back, lifting his bad arm up for no one to see and immediately regretting it, the sling strap pulling at his neck. “ _Fuck_ , ow.” 

Tim stalks away, leaving the other man to his grumbled curses. 

Gotham’s skyline– its hazy, smog-filled air rounding the sharp outline of each building– sits before Tim; if he squints, he can just make out the “W.E” that pokes out above the rest. Black spots circle the city like flies and he scoffs at the joke of GCPD’s helicopters.

Before he gets a chance to call out to Jason, Tim’s phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls it out and cringes, scrunching his eyes as he answers, “Hey, Bruce.”

He hears a sigh from the other end. 

“Tim.”

Silence. And Tim _knows_ this kind of silence.

“Yeah, there– um,” he looks back, Jason now sitting up on the ground, head cocked to the side, “I… had an issue with the car. Give me thirty.”

“It’s almost three,” Bruce, amused, almost laughs from the other end.

“Like I said, car issues. Twenty minutes, take it or leave it.” Tim says, and gives a thumbs-up to Jason who rolls his eyes back at him.

At this Bruce _does_ laugh, and Tim can feel a smile grow on his face. “No need to rush. Just get here when you can, broken-down car and all.”

“Sounds good, boss. See ya soon.”

He hangs up, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. Jason’s already gotten up, half in the car and attempting the engine when the car sputters back to life. Tim hears a muffled _“Whoop!”_ before swinging the passenger door open.

“I’m impressed,” Tim drops into the seat with a huff. “Only took you _forever.”_

Jason smacks the back of his head, “Geez, did you miss Alfred’s lessons on being _grateful_ or have you always been this big of a snot?”

“Ask him yourself," Tim quips while smoothing down his hair. "I need to stop at the manor anyways.”

“Aww, lil’ birdie doesn’t want a ride to work?” He fixes Tim with a look of mock heartbreak, placing a hand on his chest as if pained.

“While I appreciate the gesture, the _legally dead_ don’t usually pick up side gigs as chauffeurs.” Which earns Tim another smack, but he laughs this one off with a genuine smile. 

“I’m telling _Alfred_ you said that.”


End file.
